ALL THERE IS

Past is past, 

and here is now

all there is.

I sat outside in the morning

Sun drinking foul coffee,

reading James Blish,

a woodpecker

was at work

in the distance

as I went through

infodumps of a future

never to be.

I had a memory

reading Blish

decades and decades ago

when the universe

was a rapture

waiting to unfold.

Past is past,

and here is now

all there is.

I got up, crossed from sunlight

into the cool shadows

inside,

started to translate

a poem by William Stafford

about the universe being one,

and my mind took the line

and went wandering

into this poem.

The universe is one,

in the single moment

there ever is.

Past is past,

and here is now

all there is.

07.05.2026